


Song of the Devilman

by ClareGuilty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23763178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareGuilty/pseuds/ClareGuilty
Summary: Your Aunt had warned you about men of the Devil who walked the earth leaving a wake of destruction and horror. You weren’t particularly close with your Aunt, so you never really believed her.She may have been right after all.Destruction? Check.Horror? Check.Man, looking distinctly devilish? Check.Granted, you weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but a hulking, smoking mass of black cloak and an impassive bone mask seemed to fit the bill.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old fic that I love lots and wanted to get over here

Your Aunt had warned you about men of the Devil who walked the earth leaving a wake of destruction and horror. You weren’t particularly close with your Aunt, so you never really believed her.

She may have been right after all.

Destruction? Check.

Horror? Check.

Man, looking distinctly devilish? Check.

Granted, you weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but a hulking, smoking mass of black cloak and an impassive bone mask seemed to fit the bill.

The lot had been torn to hell, the remains of a car still burning in the driveway, rubble and ash and debris smoking in ominous mountains. The heat from the inferno created a shimmering effect in the air, warming your skin. The cloaked figure stood among the wreckage looking decidedly unperturbed, almost casual.

You weren’t sure why you said anything at all to the shadowy monster, but you did.

“Excuse me?” You called from the sidewalk. The figure turned, bone mask staring directly at you, “What happened to Mr. Klimas’s house?”

It was an innocent question. Mr. Klimas had lived down the street from you for the past 5 years. He was a nice enough neighbor, a veteran who liked to garden and host barbecues. You had walked by his gardenia tree twice a day, every day, for the past year and a half on your way to and from work. Today, however, the gardenia tree was gone, as was Mr. Klimas’s entire property.

The bone mask tilted in consideration. “I burnt it down.”

You nodded slowly. The smoking wreckage of your neighbor’s house seemed to match up with that story.

“And Mr. Klimas?” You asked warily.

“I couldn’t find him.” The creature’s already wicked voice took on even more of a growl, and you hoped he couldn’t sense your fear.

“That’s good.” You said, nodding. Wherever Mr. Klimas was now, you hoped he was safe. “I’ve uh- I’ve got a water bottle if you need it,” You rummaged through your backpack for the extra water you had brought, “I don’t know if you eat like… mortal food or whatever.” You held out the bottle. The last thing you expected was for the cloaked figure to dissipate into a cloud of black smoke and _rematerialize_ less than two feet in front of you, taking the water bottle in a clawed hand.

“Just _what_ exactly do you think I am?” The mask inquired. It was even more terrifying up close, seemingly suspended in a void with no body behind it. The eyes were endless black pits, emotionless.

You shrugged, “A demon?”

The mask laughed, a menacing chuckle that seemed to echo in the evening air. “Close enough.” Waves of black smoke began to emanate from within the cloak, “I’m the Reaper.”

“That’s pretty badass.” You nodded approvingly. “Well, Mr. Reaper, it was nice meeting you. Please don’t burn my house down, okay? It’s the one with the rocking chair on the porch.” Unsure of what to do next, you bowed kind of awkwardly and continued your walk home, leaving the Reaper on the sidewalk holding a bottle of water.

The firetrucks arrived a half hour later, as expected. You lived in the poor part of town where no one really cared about things like robbery and arson. Neighbors crowded in the street, speculating about what caused the fire as you watch from your window.

You didn’t think you would see the Reaper again. Not until you were about to die, at least. But one evening, weeks after the fire that took Mr. Klimas’s house, A loud thump on your porch had you peeking through the front blinds. A cloaked figure was sitting in the rocking chair.

“Are you here to kill me?” You asked through the screen door. “Because I’m not ready to go just yet.”

“I’m not here to kill you.” The rocking chair creaked on the rotted wood of your porch.

“Then you should probably come inside.” You found yourself saying before you could change your mind, “I don’t think people would take too kindly to a cloaked demon man wandering around the neighborhood.”

The smoke dissipated. You jumped when you felt a presence behind you. The Reaper was in your house now. This was fine.

“I have leftovers,” You said casually as you walked to the kitchen, “Do you like curry?” There wasn’t much you could do but offer this mysterious stranger what little food you had to share. Despite all of your Aunt’s superstitions, she had never told you how to appease the monsters she warned of. Food seemed to work on most people though. Who’s to say that the Reaper was any different?

“I don’t need your food.” The mask growled, trailing behind you. Apparently, drifting across the tile as a cloud of smoke was more convenient than walking.

“Then, uh, what brings you here?” You asked, suddenly a little nervous. The Reaper wasn’t here to kill you, and he didn’t want your food. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would just drop by for conversation.

“Curiosity.” He offered helpfully, as though that would clear everything up.

You didn’t know what to say in response, so you just tossed your curry in the microwave. An awkward silence fell over the kitchen.

“How was work?” You asked, desperate to make some sort of conversation.

Reaper looked at you, the expressionless mask somehow communicating a baffled emotion. You just shrugged your shoulders; everyone had to work, right? The microwave beeped, and you grabbed your food, moving to sit on the counter to enjoy your meal.

You were an enigma to Reaper. He was fascinated by your casual demeanor and your seeming ambivalence to his appearance. He had confessed to destroying your neighbor’s property, yet you had shown him a small kindness and just kind of… rolled with it. Now you had invited him into your home and offered him your food, asked about his day. He was fascinated.

“Work was uneventful,” Reaper answered finally. There wasn’t much he wanted to share about Talon. Some kind of dissonance kept him from talking about the torture and murder and terrorism of his professional life.

“That’s better than bad.” You pointed at him knowingly with your fork, eyebrow raised.

“Hey, uh, I’m not, like, cursed or anything right?” You asked around a mouthful of food. Seeing the Reaper twice in the span of one month seemed like a bad omen of some sort.

“No.”

“Good. As long as you’re not going to cause me any trouble, then you’re free to hang around here. Just a heads up: I’m not very exciting.” The nonchalant tone of your voice seemed to replay in Reaper’s head endlessly. ‘ _You’re free to hang around here.’_

‘Not very exciting.’ Reaper had to disagree. He had never met someone who was so forward, so accepting. You weren’t unafraid; he could see the flashes of fear in your eyes every so often, but you never showed him any unkindness or disrespect. You were… friendly.

Reaper visited many times after that. You never turned him away. The two of you graduated from long awkward silences to movie nights to nights where you talked his ear off about anything and everything that was happening in your life. He found himself playing along with your antics just as much as you played along with his.

He sat beside you on the couch while you chattered over some shitty B-list movie, feeling ridiculous in his full coat and armor while you lazed in your pajamas. You were unfazed when he grabbed a piece of popcorn in a smoky black tendril and snaked it under his mask.

“How does the smoky stuff work?” You asked, shoving your own fistful of popcorn in your face. “It looks really cool.”

Reaper didn’t really understand it himself, so he just grunted and shrugged, but he made sure to show off a little bit after that, fetching condiments and flipping light switches without ever taking a step. You found it amusing and helpful.

The credits were rolling. You had fallen asleep snuggled up against Reaper’s side despite the hard edges of his armor, curled into a ball and snoring softly. The room was bathed in total darkness once he clicked the TV off. Unsure of what to do next, he scooped you up into his arms, dissipating his gauntlets so you would be more comfortable. You slept soundly as he drifted silently up the stairs to your bedroom. There was something fond tugging at his heart as Reaper tucked you into bed. His hand brushed your hair back; you didn’t move, still sound asleep. How long had it been since someone had trusted him like this? He couldn’t say.

Reaper’s lips, his real lips, brushed against your temple. For once, he felt safe even without his mask on.

“Goodnight, _cariño_.” He whispered before disappearing into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was dark as Reaper materialized in your living room. Usually, there was some light from the kitchen or the downstairs bathroom, but this evening the entire house seemed to be bathed in darkness. As much as Reaper was comforted by the shadow, it worried him. You weren’t a creature of the dark. You were bright eyes and wide smiles and afternoon sun stretching across the old, stained carpet.

Maybe you weren’t home? You were a well-rounded person; maybe you had gone out with friends after work?

Reaper shrugged. He had a few hours to kill before he had to go back to… well… killing.

He checked the house quickly, making sure the upstairs rooms were unoccupied before solidifying back in the living room. As Reaper moved to take a seat on the couch, he accidentally brushed a warm lump of blankets.

Instantly, Reaper flicked the light switch, tendril moving so fast it could have sliced steel. A familiar sized lump was curled up on the couch, buried under a thick blanket.

You stirred softly, lifting your head from beneath the blanket and blinking several times in the obtrusive light.

“Hey,” you said, voice croaky with sleep. Reaper stood frozen as you looked at him with a dopey smile and greeted him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. You never ceased to amaze him.

“I’m sorry,” Reaper tried to soften his voice, smooth out the rough edges and hide the ever-present growl in his words. “I didn’t know you were sleeping.”

Gabe took in your red-rimmed eyes. He noticed the way you held yourself, arms close to your chest, chin tucked down and eyes on the floor. You were upset.

“You’ve been crying,” he noted.

“Yeah,” you dragged the back of your hand over your eyes, “sorry about that. It’s been a rough day.” Your voice was still croaky – hoarse. Something had happened to make you cry like this.

“Don’t apologize,” Reaper said, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You didn’t even flinch at the proximity, at the sight of his mask inches away from your face. “What do you need?”

The question took you off guard. You stiffened for a moment, thinking hard about your answer.

“I don’t know what I need.” You shook your head. “To feel safe?”

Reaper’s first instinct was to leave. He could not provide safety. He had not known safety in years. Who was he to protect you?

But you did not know what kind of man he was. You trusted him.

You sat upright now, looking more uncomfortable in his presence than ever before.

“I’m sorry,” you tried to backtrack. “That was stupid. We can just watch a movie or something?” Reaper could see the regret in your eyes. You felt bad for opening up to him. _You_ didn’t want to burden _Reaper_ with your problems. The consideration nearly made him scoff.

He stopped you. Leaning forward to wrap you more snugly in the blanket.

“Stay,” he ordered as he drifted to the kitchen. He had been over often enough that he had a pretty good understanding of where you kept things, so it didn’t take him long to find what he needed.

You sat dutifully on the couch, listening to the sounds of Reaper rummaging through your cabinets. What was he looking for?

Your day had been shit. Your whole week had been shit. You were frustrated, sad, exhausted, done. The first thing you had done when you got home was bury yourself under the blanket and cry yourself to sleep. The last thing you expected was to be gently woken up by Reaper, much less for him to make you… was that hot chocolate you smelled?

Sure enough, the masked wraith floated back into your living room with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He set the mug down on the coffee table, and you instantly reached for it only to have your hand batted away by a smoky appendage.

“It’s still hot,” Reaper warned. You looked over and were surprised to see that Reaper was no longer wearing his cloak or gauntlets. Instead, he was dressed in a hoodie and dark jeans still covered head to toe and wearing the mask.

“You can change your clothes with that stuff?” you asked, wide-eyed with surprise and curiosity. Tentatively, you picked up one of Reaper’s hands. His usual sharp, steel claws were replaced with what looked like motorcycle gloves. They were pretty stylish.

You poked and prodded at his new outfits for a few moments, feeling the fabric of his hoodie and peering over the edge of the couch to look at his boots. “You look good,” you noted.

“I think it’s cooled off now,” Reaper handed you the mug of hot chocolate as a source of distraction from his appearance.

You took a sip and hummed appreciatively. “Thank you.”

Reaper watched you carefully as you drank your hot chocolate. Your eyes still looked sad, and your shoulders were hunched forward. There had to be more he could do.

When you had finished with the mug, he rinsed it out in the kitchen before coming back to turn on the tv. It didn’t take him long to pull up one of your favorite movies, and he rewrapped you in the blanket before pulling out his phone.

“I’m going to order you that Thai food you like and then I’ll go,” he said, but you grabbed his wrist before he could turn away.

“Don’t go,” your voice cracked between the two words. Even though you were looking at the floor, Reaper could see that your eyes were filled with tears.

“I’ll stay if you need me, _cariño,”_ he pushed you over on the couch so he could take his usual spot. The blanket was draped over both of you, and his arms pulled you in close so you could rest your head on his chest.

You had never been this close to Reaper before. Without the armor, he was sturdy and surprisingly warm. You listened to the rumble of his voice as he ordered dinner for the both of you, and after he hung up the phone, you listened for his heartbeat. You weren’t even sure if he had one.

Sure enough, very softly against your ear, you could hear a faint thudding, slow and rhythmic.

**Author's Note:**

> I have other fics on my [Tumblr](http://www.clareguilty.tumblr.com)
> 
> I retweet a lot of fanart and memes on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/Clare_guilty)


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